


Lestrade's Rule

by Upstarsfromreality



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upstarsfromreality/pseuds/Upstarsfromreality
Summary: Lestrade enforces a rule. Sherlock starts to understand.





	Lestrade's Rule

I got off the tube at Scotland Yard and headed over to DI Lestrade's office. I greeted him with “Good morning, Gabe,” but he didn't even bother to scowl at me. I tried stronger tactics: “I don't think your rule is even in play here. It was a private case and the army and palace security were in charge of the criminal investigation.”

“Oh, it's definitely in play,” he said. “This became police business with the second victim. Matter of fact, you already broke the rule. Don't think for a minute that using the case in your bloody best man's speech doesn't count.”

“Can't it wait until John gets back from his honeymoon? He's so much better at it than me.”

“You need the practice and Private Bainbridge doesn't deserve to be kept waiting. Come on.” Lestrade was not giving up.

“Alright, Giles, if it's that important.” I had never liked the inspector's requirement that subordinates and consultants join him in telling families, or victims in attempted murders like this, that it was over. He enforced it by denying me cases or denying his sergeants and constables recommendations, so it always seemed like throwing his weight around. However it seemed, he stuck to it: no one could celebrate their work with a drink, or in a blog, until those left behind were told.

Fortunately for me, John actually was better than me at it, and usually showed up for the job on our cases. This time he had gone on his honeymoon instead, so I was stuck with it.

Lestrade and I got in the car and drove to the barracks. It looked like the wrong one. “What are we doing here? Doesn't Private Bainbridge live at the Palace barracks?” I asked.

“Not now he doesn't. He got taken off the Guads for security reasons after the attacks.”

“But you arrested the criminal. Shouldn't he be back? Besides, why are they making him do crap work anyway? He's a Guardsman.”

“He's a soldier, Sherlock. He does what he's ordered.”

We went into the barracks and presented our IDs. Bainbridge knew why we were there and led us out of the common room. “Caught the bastard, huh?” he asked.

“We did,” I told him. “ You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“You thought I was dead the last time you saw me. Why did he do this?” I liked that Bainbridge valued facts over pleasantries. I explained how Bainbridge had been the dry run for another attempted murder. I explained that the guard uniform was similar to the dress uniform worn to the wedding by that victim, especially in having a tight belt and a coat of comparable weight. Bainbridge didn't interrupt me to yell or cry the way most clients would have done. He went very still and quiet instead.

When I had finished, he had another question. “All of us Guardsmen wear the same uniform. Why me in particular?”

“Oh that was due to your appearance.” I thought that explained it, but Bainbridge looked angry and Lestrade jumped into the conversation.

“No, it wasn't a hate crime,” said the inspector. “It was another aspect of your appearance Mr. Holmes meant.” I had to admit, the possibility of a hate crime hadn't even occurred to me.

Bainbridge glared at me, as if it were my fault. “What possible other aspect of my appearance could you mean?”

I cleared my throat. “Your height, weight, and general build. They are all quite similar to those of Major Sholto, for whom your attack was the dry run.”

“Dry run,” snapped Bainbridge. “You mean target practice. I was used for target practice because I made the best model for this bloody bastard's bloody experiment.” He was furious now. He glared at me and Lestrade both and then at the door. We said how sorry we were and left.

I felt slightly nauseated and kept hearing “Bloody experiment” echoing in my ears. When we got to the car, Lestrade said I had done well and asked if I were alright. I thanked him by his proper name, Greg, because I was too tired to think of another male name starting with G. I said that I was fine but I wanted to take the tube back. I got to Baker Street just in time to throw up, “bloody experiment,” still pounding in my ears. I went to the fridge and got out plastic my bag of ears. I didn't want to take it on the tube with the ears showing, so I found a cardboard box in the cupboard and stuffed it in there. I caught the tube to Barts and brought the ears into Molly's lab. 

“Sherlock, I wasn't expecting you today. It's great to see you,” said Molly, but I didn't feel like anyone that anyone would be glad to see.

I gave her the box of ears and a request. “Molly, could you please get theses back to the people they belong to? I know they don't miss them but I don't imagine I'll feel like doing any bloody experiments for a while.”

Molly nodded. It suddenly got a little bit easier to breathe.


End file.
